


It Means Sun God

by The_Peridot_Writer



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Peridot_Writer/pseuds/The_Peridot_Writer
Summary: A three part special. Phoebus returns to Paris with one person in mind but the husband to her doesn’t like to share.





	It Means Sun God

**It Means Sun God**

**Chapter One: A Dreaded Return**

**Summary: A three part special. Phoebus returns to Paris with one person in mind but the husband to her doesn’t like to share.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunchback of Notre Dame or any of its characters and plots. This is simply for entertainment purposes. All rights belong to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

His wedding was over a year ago and he had the audacity to invite her. After going against the minister, almost losing his life, kissing her. All that down the drain when he admitted that he had been engaged the whole white.

          Fleur-De-Lys. Now Fleur-De-Lys De Chateupeurs. Esmeralda scoffed softly as her husband read the letter aloud for she knew not how to read, the flowery French letters foreign to her.

          “… and I feel that it would be a great opportunity to meet the woman my husband talks so dearly about,” Frollo continued to read, “I sincerely hope I will be able to meet you. Sincerely, Fleur-De-Lys.”

          Claude folded the parchment, setting it down on his desk, his eyes ablaze with anger. He glanced over to Esmeralda, attempting to see what she was feeling. His heart filled with sorrow when she remained quiet, different than her normal, lively appearance.

          Her emerald eyes were stormy and unreadable, tears in them, hurt evident on her face as she trembled. Her fingers curled and uncurled again and again. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to suppress a cry that threatened to fall past her lips.

          “Do you want to meet them?” He finally inquired. She lifted her gaze, searching his face silently.

          “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

          “If you don’t want to-.” He began.

          “I don’t know,” the gypsy repeated, staring at the folded piece of paper on the desk. She declared the three words once more, her voice an octave lower, barely above a whisper.

          “If you want to, I’ll go with you if you do not wish to be alone,” he reassured her.

          “No. Allow me to think, Claude, please,” she whispered, her voice feckless. Her emerald eyes swam with many emotions, all of them intermingling and becoming nearly impossible to separated and make out each distinct emotion.

          Running a hand through her raven hair, she turned on the heel of her bare foot, for she rarely wore shoes, heading upstairs into the bedroom.

          She remained there for quite some time, planning out all the possibilities of what may occur if she did meet Phoebus and his wife, opposing all those options to that if she didn’t meet them.

          The gypsy wondered what Claude would say or do if she decided to go through with meeting them. Would he be upset? Angry? Her husband, thought changed dramatically, was a very carping and intransigent type of a man. He was possessive and was not one to argue with, especially if his mind was made up upon something. Of course, she was just as headstrong, a perfect storm when it came to one of their infamous arguments and in certain cases, amazing make up sex and punishments delivered to one another, depending on whose fault it was.

          She wasn’t entirely sure how long she was thinking, the bells that Quasimodo rung signaling that it was after lunch. She was rather surprised that her stomach, now grumbling, wasn’t the first thing that ripped her out of her thoughts.

          Esmeralda found herself not in the mood for lunch, still thinking over what may happen. Would he go with her without complaint as he promised? She knew that he was a man of his words but something involving the very man he despised, the man that his very wife once loved, coming back may just change that part of him.

          And if she did meet him? How would she compose herself, knowing that the captain she fell for was no longer hers but another woman’s? Never having been in a situation quite like that one, Esmeralda found herself truly, truly lost and hopeless.

          “Do you still care for him?” Came a quiet voice from the doorway. Esmeralda’s head snapped around and she met her husband’s gaze.

          “How long have you been standing there?” She inquired, attempting to slow her heart which was beating much too quickly for her liking.

          “About a half hour,” he mumbled. “I came up here to ask if you would like to join me for lunch but judging by your face, I think you want to do anything but,” he sighed and entered, sitting on the bed next to her. “You’re thinking about what will happen if you decide to meet them, aren’t you?”

          She nodded quietly, avoiding his gaze as she laid down. Claude placed a hand in her raven hair and she relaxed against it, her emerald eyes closing, his gentle touch making her feel better.

          He ran his fingers through her hair before moving his hand to her cheek. “I will support you with whatever you wish to do, Esmeralda. You’re my wife. I promised in my vows that I will forever be on your side.”

          “I know, Claude. But… I’m worried. Very, very worried. I mean, I haven’t seen him in the longest time and we parted on truly horrible terms and I can’t help the feeling of someone getting hurt out of my mind no matter what conclusion I come to. I wish it was so much easier,” she mumbled.

          “Nothing is easy, is it?” He inquired and gathered her in his arms. “If it was, well, we may not be here, together, in each other’s arms.”

          She nodded, her throat slowly growing tight with fear that came seemingly out of oblivion. “But I must know, my emerald… Do you still care for him? Do you still love Phoebus?”

          Esmeralda remained quiet, not daring to answer in fear of what might happen no matter what she said. She felt her husband stiffen besides her and his arms unraveled as he got off the bed. “By your silence, Esmeralda, I have my answer.”

          “No, you don’t, Claude,” she answered. “Don’t do this. Not again. Don’t assume,” she accused him of his wonted actions. “I didn’t answer you.”

          “Then what, my dear _wife_ ,” he emphasized the word, his tone mordant, “do you feel towards my ex-captain?”   
          “I don’t know,” she spoke with great uncertainty, not wishing to get on her husband’s bad side but realized she was slipping greatly. She was on the edge of the cliff, dangling, barely holding on. One wrong action and she was dead which she didn’t doubt was far from the truth at the moment.

          “And me? You love me?”

          She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, meeting his gaze at such an absurd question. “Yes! Of course I love you! I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”

          “Really? So you loved me when you decided to choose me over the fire? You loved me when you finally gave yourself up to me?”

          “Where is this coming from?” She demanded, staring at him in utter disbelief. “I never- Claude! I-.”

          “If you can’t answer me about Phoebus, you can’t answer me about this. Did you love him?”

          “Claude, this makes no sense. I-!”

          “Did you love him?!”

          “Yes!” She snapped finally, anger blazing in her emerald eyes. “Yes! I loved him! And I think I’d prefer him over you!” She immediately realized what she said and her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief at her own actions. She didn’t dare meet his gaze. “Claude. I-.”

          “See? You told the truth. Now that wasn’t so hard, huh?” He hissed, anger overt in his storming voice. “Catch someone off guard, they’ll reveal the truth, unknowing or not. You have told me the truth, my _wife_.”

          “No! I didn’t mean to say it, Claude! It just came out-.”

          “Right. Like agreeing to go with me just came out as well. Admit it. You enjoy the luxuries given to you. You love being pampered and spoiled. It was the life you always wanted but you never got, correct? So you grabbed the chance as soon as you could. You may have first went with me to save yourself and your people but now you thrive in the luxuries.”

          She looked away from him as tears formed in her emerald eyes at the accusation, saying nothing. “I figured out the truth, Esmeralda. You and I both know that.”

          “No! It’s not the truth, Claude! If I didn’t love you, I never would have stayed even if I did want all the luxuries you accuse me of!”

          “You would have no reason to leave! You were allowed to come and go as you pleased. You were free, not trapped. You were free for the longest time, were you not? You stayed not only to ensure your people were safe but to ensure you fell asleep in a warm bed with a full stomach and perhaps, a dull pain of pleasure in between your legs every now and then. You haven’t Esmeralda.”

          “And I never tried to!” She retaliated, tears threatening to overflow. “I wouldn’t stay with a person no matter how much they can offer me. And I am not that selfish! I’m truly not, Claude! And if you see me like everything you just claimed I am, it proves that you never had an ounce of thrust in me in the first place and no, no relationship can survive without trust!”

          “No. There was no relationship to begin with. You and I both know that. Are you really that daft?”   
          “So you’re saying that-?” She met his gaze finally, tears threatening to spill. “N-no. Claude… All those declarations of love were true! My vows came from the heart. All those passion filled nights meant everything to me! Haven’t I proved to you that I love you?!”   
          “Then why must you hesitate when I ask if you are going to meet up with Phoebus? Why did you claim that you wanted him over me? What could he ever offer you that I am uncapable of offering?”

          She became quiet and looked away, heartbroken, her breath heavy, uneven. Each beat of her shattered heart ached and she was sure that she could no longer hold back the tears and she no longer tried, breaking down right then and there. “Believe your sick truth. _Your_ truth. Not the real truth but your truth. And if you believe that I never loved you, then believe it. According to you, I am wrong. According to you, I thrive in your goods you can present to me, not your love. According to you, Claude Frollo, my husband, I am still a simple gypsy guilty for witchcraft.”

          “It is not my truth. It is the truth and you and I both know it to be true, Esmeralda.”

          “No! It’s not true! Claude, you can’t do this! Don’t destroy what we built!” She desperately pleaded, tears rolling down her cheeks quickly. “Claude. Please. I beg of you, don’t do this. Stop it, please,” she whimpered, slowly sinking to her knees. “I thought you saw me past my culture, past my background. I thought you were changing,” she sobbed in her hands, trembling.

          Claude watched her through cold eyes, not saying a single word despite his own heart and brain screaming a him to take it all back, to scoop her up, kiss her pain and tears away, to tell her he didn’t mean a single word he uttered. He longed to tell her he loved her and more, wanted to beg for her forgiveness and anything that would come after. He was aware, well aware of his gambit, but it had to be done.

          “You deserved to have been burned at the stake,” he spoke, his voice calm like always, surprising himself for all he longed to do was cry. “You deserve to be left in the cold. You deserve to be starved, raped, tortured, killed. You deserve all that and more for Hell is not punishment enough.” He grabbed her arm, yanking her up. “I have things you want. Warmth, food. You have something I want. I will not lie, gypsy. You have an irresistible body. You can stay with me but you will do what I say whenever I say, wife, or I will leave you out on the streets, in the cold again,” he hissed in her ear. “Do you understand?”

          She trembled at his words and slowly nodded. “Y-yes,” she whispered, too afraid to speak another word or even make the tiniest sound.

          “Good girl,” he hissed, placing a rough hand in between her legs and she elicited a surprised cry in response, her legs beginning to shake beneath he as he stroked her length through her dress and undergarments. “Now then. I must take my leave.”

          He turned and left, closing the door and locking it. Esmeralda shuddered and sat on the bed, laying there, the sexual need whelming in between her legs once again. She closed her eyes and let out a small cry of sorrow and she was left alone with her thoughts.

          Her fears almost immediately got the better of her as she was in a dead silent room, the curtains  drawn that barely allowed the sun to shine through, a faint glow throughout the room.

          She replayed again and again what he had said, her eyes filling with tears more than once, a pain cry escaping the back of her throat as she hugged her knees close to her chest. He threatened her. For the first time in a long time, he truly threatened her. And she had not the slightest idea on how to respond to it.

          The look in his eye, the unwavering brutality told her that he would not hesitate throw her back in the streets of Paris and leave her all to see. She had nowhere to go, having been perceived a traitor to the eyes of many gypsies despite the fact she was constantly helped them but it did not even an ounce of good. She was no longer wanted.

          Thinking this through, she began to let her mind wander to other possible scenarios. She could be raped, murdered. Then again, the same might be in effect if she stayed with Claude. She was slowly losing trust within him. Slowly but surely.

          He was a man to have drastic changes in his personality and feelings, of course, but something as drastic as threatening to leave her never once crossed her mind, especially not after all they went through. They had made so much progress and for all of it to be destroyed with a simple sentence crushed her.

          No longer being able to hold it in, she gave up and cried. She cried her heart out, quick tears rolling down her cheeks. The built up fear, sorrow, and pain escaped her as she cried, her body shuddering. She had not even the slightest clue that Claude was leaning against the door, listening to every cry and silently joining her.

          He had no intention on losing his Esmeralda. None at all, especially not to the bastard Phoebus who didn’t deserve a woman as perfect as the gypsy in his bedroom. He was one to take extreme measures to ensure that everything would go his way and despite the guilt and sorrow resting in his heart, he had no intention of telling her the truth until he knew that she would be his and his alone.

          Not truly knowing how much time passed for the second time that day, she eventually managed to slow her breathing, her tears ceasing.

          Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion and she felt the weight of the day slowly but surely pressing down on her. Her head remained in her head and she laid down on the bed, the need in her lower regions eventually becoming a dull discomfort but she felt no need to please herself.

          Sitting there, she began to wonder if all his declarations of love, if any of them were true. She was truly having her doubts. All she knew was that her heart hurt. Her hands trembled as she clutched onto a necklace that he had given her as a wedding present. With bitter anger and hurt, she ripped it off, throwing it across the room with a fit a rage. The emerald at the end shattered.

          She stood and slowly trudged over, kneeling down to the broken shards. With shaky hands, she picked them up, a shuddery breath escaping her. She curled her fingers around it, the gem shard digging into the palm of her hand, blood eventually escaping. She bit her lower lip, blood escaping it as well.

          “Damn it,” she whimpered. “Damn it, Claude… Why? Why are you doing this?” Throwing the shards down, she stood and began pacing the room, ignoring the blood rolling down. The pain in her heart merely overpowered it. Se wanted anything that could distract her or at least rid herself of it and unfortunately, the second option wasn’t available and at that point, she sincerely doubt it ever would be again. Even if she did get rid of it, it would take a while.

          She fell in love and she felt horribly stupid for doing it once again. First Phoebus, a cheating bastard, and now Claude, a murderous, abusive man.

          Biting her lower lip more, she drew more blood. It rolled down quickly. Heading over to the window, she opened the curtains, pushing the window open. She let out a breath before climbing out of the window, slowly balancing herself on the ledge.

          Steadying herself, she slowly walked down the ledge. Despite at how large the room was, she was trapped, imprisoned. And the idea of being trapped in the room that was so similar to when she first arrived made her sick to her stomach.

          The zingara let out a cry when her foot suddenly slipped. She clutched tightly onto the edge, dangling off. A strong case of déjà vu consumed her and she shut her emerald eyes, breathing heavily. Hanging there, she attempted to lift herself back up, trembling as she focused. It had been too long since she was ever in true danger and practically being confided in the large palace, she lost much of her agility and skill that she gained when running from danger.

          The palms of her hands became slick and she felt her grip loosened. “Don’t fall, don’t fall,” she kept reiterating as though that would grant her more strength to pull herself up from the four story fall.

          Allowing herself to look down, she became pale with fear and more sweat began to roll down the sides of her face. Her heart beat heavily within her chest and she heard her name being cried out, however faint it was.

          The rush of her blood through her veins consumed her earing and she could just barely to roll down the sides of her face. She heard her name being cried out, however faint it was.

          The rush of her blood through her veins consumed her hearing and she could barely decipher the call to be her husband’s voice. Biting her lower lip once again, a cry escaped past her lips and she let go entirely, plummeting to the Earth.

          She felt her heart stop within her chest the moment she let go and blackness immediately consumed the young woman’s vision. When she eventually regained her senses merely seconds later, she felt herself being held in firm and gentle arms, the grip not tight enough to hurt her but enough to cause her slight discomfort. The next thing she took notice of were raindrops on her face. They landed on her cheeks, rolling down quickly. She then realized they weren’t raindrops but rather tears. And that was when heard quiet cries. They were muffled and she let a small groan escape in response.

          “Why?” She heard a soft cry. “Why would you…? Why would you do this? Why were you on the ledge? Were you trying to give me a heart attack?” The minister demanded but his tone held no bitterness or anger, just concern.

          She attempted to respond, the attempts being proved futile. Her heart ached even more at her husband’s cries and she knew that she was being stupid once again. She should be glad that he was upset, that he was hurting for all he did to her. She whimpered in his arms, only then realizing the burning pain in her chest and she was certain she broke a couple of ribs.

          “Open your eyes, Esmeralda. Open them,” he begged her, more tears flowing down. “Esmeralda, look at me. Open your eyes. You’ll be fine. You’re fine. Wake up, open your eyes, Esmeralda.”

          “Claude,” she whimpered out, the familiar warmth and gentleness of his touch, consuming her, causing her entire body to relax. She let out a breath and her head fell to the side as darkness took her once again.

          She was trapped within her own mind, her thoughts and fears taking over everything. It immediately led her to Claude’s threat and how he acted a few minutes ago with her in his arms, making her wonder if he did care about her. Her heart was screaming, repeating that all of claims of love were true, all of them and that the only reason he threatened her was through fear of losing her. She truly believed that but her brain said otherwise, claiming that he finally revealed the truth to her, how he actually felt about her, her kind and his love towards her.

          He didn’t love her, rather just what she can offer him. Simple pleasure. She hated that idea more than anything. She hated being used and now what he said about her having something he wanted that included no portion of love whatsoever caused her heart to become quiet. It no longer fought against her brain, against logic.

          She was an ignorant, lovestruck fool who made the mistake twice of falling in love and twice it coming back and hitting her where she was weak. And the final blow weakened her to the point of no coming back. She was lost, tired and she had no will to fight.

          Esmeralda let her heart stop fighting and her brain to take over. Once she would wake, she would just obey Claude so she could have what he accused her but she paid no mind to that. At that point, she needed to survive, no matter what the cost.

          “God, Esmeralda,” Claude breathed out as she let unconsciousness take over. So much of the lying part only mere hours ago. “Go and fetch a doctor,” the minister demanded towards a guard who took no time to oblige.

          The zingara in his arms lacked her normal caramel skin features and her bright red lips for both were pale. He had heard her cry from his office for his window was opened. He always enjoyed fresh air after a spring rain and that time was no different. And he thanked the Lord for that for he feared that if he hadn’t had that liking, he never would have heard her cry and therefore, never would have been able to catch her.

          He stood with her laying in his arms. Taking tentative steps and trying not to jostle her too much, he arrived back in their bedroom, setting her down on the bed. Directing his attention to the now open window, he closed it and locked it tight with a  key, pocketing it so she wouldn’t attempt the same thing.

          Sitting on the bed, he placed his head in his hands, trying futilely to rid himself of his assumptions towards his wife’s actions. Surely she could not have broken that easily to attempt a suicide. He loved her for her spirit, finding it to be that of her strongest traits and the most admirable.

          But his words were unforgivable. He saw in her eyes how much it truly affected her. The hurt and the pain omitted caused his own soul to ache and he would prefer to be burning in Hell for all of eternity rather than hurt her like that ever again. “I’m sorry,” he breathed after a while, his hands trembling as he placed them on hers that were cold.

          He quietly checked for a pulse and found one, a small breath escaping him. Now if the doctor… Just as his thought could be completed, as if on cue, the doctor entered, placing his bag down. “Minister,” he greeted him and he merely nodded in response.

          “Tend to my wife, please,” was all he said, his voice almost breaking. He cleared his throat to attempt to pass it by as a tickle. “Help her,” he rasped out.

          The doctor nodded. “You must leave the room. You know how it is when undressing a woman without her knowledge.”

          Claude simply nodded, bidding him a farewell before leaving the room, heading to his office.

          He immediately return to his desk, going to work on papers that he had left on his desk since that morning. They remained blank and upon sitting down and gathering his quill, he felt no need to complete them despite them being crucial to the king and Paris.

          His mind was instead consumed with the recent events. Catching sight of a white paper at the corner of his eye, he gathered it, staring at the flowery handwriting. He read it over again and again, his eyes narrowing every time at a single sentence only. “You sound like a beautiful woman and I feel that it would be a great opportunity to meet the woman my husband talks so dearly about.”

          Scoffing at the declaration, he felt a sudden urge to meet Phoebus himself and set one thing. Esmeralda was his and his alone. No one else’s. Just as Quasimodo had his own love now, he had his. Even Djali managed to find love and he would be deemed more of a dunce than his beloved brother, Jehan, if he were to let Phoebus woe his wife and steal her.

          A new thought struck him at that. When he first inquired upon meeting Phoebus and his wife, she had been hesitant, upset, anxious and the more that set into his mind, the more he became aware of the lack of an answer he had received from her.

          He, as his wife stated so bluntly, had merely assumed her answer upon meeting them. It wasn’t even an assumption upon meeting Phoebus but rather any lingering love that may have remained towards him. And he had assumed her reasons for living with him for as long as she did so, as to why she married him in the first place and he refused to even acknowledge her cries and pleads, her statements that were so filled with truth. And he knew that he enjoyed lying to himself to make it seem as though it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t to blame but despite the reoccurring lie that he did it to ensure she wouldn’t leave, as ludicrous and inane as it truly sounded, he was the most at fault and he refused to believe it while his brain and heart alike screamed at him to do so.

          No. He had too much dignity, pride and self-respect to ever do that as much as he hated to admit it himself.

          He loved her and now he knew that her words rang true to him. But that still left him wondering about the love she held towards Phoebus. Just because the love towards him was true did not necessarily mean that the love for Phoebus wasn’t there or not that strong. It could well surpass her love for him. She could still be holding the majority of love in her heart for Phoebus, saving it for him and him alone. That love may be more passionate and more true than that for him and that was what he feared the most, that she loved Phoebus more than what she loved him.        

          The hesitation overt in her eyes unnerved him. Everyone to him was an open book, more than easy to read. Both their emotions and thoughts. Whilst he would easily decipher her emotions, figure out what she was feeling, it, unfortunately, wasn’t the same as trying to figure out what she was thinking. That was an entirely different story entirely and he wasn’t too keen on the knowledge that he couldn’t break her, reveal to him what he wished if she had no desire in doing so.

          Now he was battling between the reason for the hesitation. Was it because she had no true desire to Phoebus and her, having the good heart she had, was afraid of a negative impact that could have towards Phoebus. But his other portion of him told him it had nothing to do with the fact of hurting Phoebus but rather hurting him instead. Perhaps she feared of making him doubt his love for her or even thinking twice about her commitment towards her to which, guilty, he’s done so several times even at the past couple of minutes. Some husband he was.

          But now he at least had a motive for keeping her locked there in the palace no matter how much he truly despised the idea of her living in fear because of him. And at that thought, he realized she had every reason to not only fear him but reclaim her love for him. And at that thought, he realized she had every reason to not only fear him but reclaim her love for him, to take it away from him and leave him as he was before but now he knew that he would never be the same. She had charged him and if she left him, willingly or not, he would be broken, defeated and he sincerely doubted, have a slight will to life, if any was left.

          Folding the note, he placed it in his robes where her shawl had resided long ago and he sought a similar demise for the wretched letter. He valued that shawl but the letter left a much more bitter taste within his mouth.

          He began to head to his papers that needed to be filled, the blank parchment reminding him of how much time he truly wasted that day. Well, not wasted but how much of the day that had been taken off.

          Enjoying to spend as much time with his wife in the morning before she left to town and him for work, he had two hours to get the morning work done. Not that he truly minded and he left the needs of his wife much more important than some stupid documents that barely pertained to himself or even Paris as a whole.

          The minister had been ready to start his work but Esmeralda had came in, looking paler than himself, her hand shaking as she clutched tightly onto the parchment. She had asked him to read it to her since it was from Phoebus and she wished not to hide anything from him for she didn’t believe in such a thing.

          While he did manage to get an hour’s work in before lunch, the time after the argument had merely been spent contemplating much like he’s been doing.

          He was snapped out of his thoughts when a knock elicited from the door and a guard’s voice clearly announced, “the ex-captain has requested to speak with you. He is waiting for you in the front of the palace, minister.”

          “Yes, of course,” was the simple reply back. Just what both of them needed. Another reason to go at each other’s throats more. Scoffing, he took one last look at the papers before heading towards Phoebus, an argument already brewing in his mind before either said anything or even acknowledged each other’s presence.

          The immediate note that Frollo took upon one glance of Phoebus was the already smug look that he held in his young features. So he remained unchanged for the most part. That high and grander persona radiated around him, as if casting a glow that was almost palpable. Claude had to do everything in his power to not strangle the arrogant man where he stood.

          He resided in dark armor of the Paris army as opposed to the golden armor he had worm when he had been assigned Captain of the Guard. His blond hair was still much too long for his liking and it appeared that he grew a mustache in addition to his beard. Phoebus was the first to speak in an unsuccessful attempt to break the tension between them. “Minister. It appears you haven’t changed. I assume that you neither changed spiritually nor emotionally. Am I correct?” He smirked to which Claude snarled at.

          “And I am to presume you remained your own, arrogant self?” He responded. “Why are you here?”

          “You got my note, yes?”

          “I didn’t get a note from you but rather your wife. She was the one who wished to see _my_ wife,” he emphasized the word to make it clear to Phoebus but knowing him and his thick skull, it would take a while to register. “Speaking of her, where is your wife? She seemed more than eager to meet Esmeralda.”

          “Ah. Right. Since the palace is quite a distance from where we live, we had to search for a cabin to stay at. We found an abandoned one last night so she stayed there to tidy up. She had told me to go ahead. That’s all,” he shrugged.

          Claude’s eyes narrowed as he explained and he had a rather hard time believing the words coming out of his mouth. “Indeed. Well, I see that there is no point for you to linger here if the reason you’re here is off doing something else.”

          “Ah, but you see, I wanted to see Esmeralda as much as she did. The feelings and decision to come here was mutual. I wasn’t the one who even brought up the idea. See, I always talk to Fleur about Esmeralda. After a while, she asked if there was any chance she could meet her. She didn’t know where she lived and I told her she lived here so she suggested to go and visit her. Where is she anyways, locked up in the dungeons?” He joked yet it held a more than serious and suspicious undertone to it.

          “No, she is not and how dare you have the audacity to practically barge into my home, uninvited and unannounced, accuse me of holding my very own wife captive and demanding to see her?! Proper edict, ex-captain. Something that you so greatly lack as well.”   
          “Mmm, indeed,” he mumbled absentmindedly, seemingly not having paid an ounce of attention to Claude as he ranted. “Now, Esmeralda. Where is she? Truly? I haven’t seen her in the longest time and it would be great to see her again, hear her voice rather than just dreaming about it,” he hummed, heading inside of the palace, finally moving from his position inside of the doorway.

          Claude silently followed him, wondering if he should tell him that she was out with the other gypsies somewhere and she won’t be home for a while or tell him that she was merely asleep? He decided with the second one, for he might go looking for her. Just focusing on making sure that he would go nowhere near her, he concluded with a simple, “she is asleep”, cutting it short after. He had no reason to know anymore information nor look for anything else to pester him about.

          “Ah, of course. I should be on my way,” he nodded and turned to leave.

          Releasing a breath he had no idea of holding, he watched as he left. Meanwhile, Esmeralda was just waking, her head throbbing. She turned over, expecting to see her husband laying there, already awake and watching her. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the no such luck and she sat up, looking around the bedroom to find it completely empty.

          Having yet to regain her memory, she headed towards the door to merely discover it to be locked from the outside. Her movements were slow and she was having trouble standing herself as she leaned against the wall to support herself, the bed being much too far for her to sit down onto.

          The rush of memories seemed to come back all at once, leaving her head spinning. Groaning, she sat down to the floor. Now she knew why she was locked in. As if not learning a single lesson, she stood upon shaky legs and advanced towards the window, attempting to open it to no avail. Slamming her fist against the window in frustration, she sat on the bed with utmost defeat.

          As she heard voices omitting from the hallway, an idea almost immediately struck her. “Meridian! Meridian!” She hurried to the door. The young girl, barely any older than Esmeralda herself, stopped with an older maid. She inquired what was wrong to which the gypsy gave a simple explanation and asked her to unlock the door. “Thank you,” she smiled to the pale maid before hurrying down the stairs.

          The large doors slammed shut just as she took the last step off the flight of stairs. “Oh, one more thing,” Phoebus’ voice rang and he turned around, heading back inside. Esmeralda’s presence was only known when she rounded the bend. The Sun God was the first one out of the two to take notice. “Esmeralda!” He smiled broadly, immediately running to her and scooping her within his arms, hugging her tightly. She cried out in shock at the sudden interaction, a deep blush on her cheeks that Claude took notice of. She caught his glare over Phoebus’ shoulder and she avoided his gaze, looking away. She buried her head in Phoebus’ neck instead to hide her face.

          She began to tremble as she felt Claude’s stare on her. Despite the comforting hold Phoebus had on her, she couldn’t shake off the uneasiness presented to her by Claude.

          Esmeralda backed away, gently taking Phoebus’ head in her hands, looking him over and smiling. “You haven’t changed,” she whispered and a simple was the response.

          “I cannot say the same for you, Esmeralda. You became simply more beautiful since the last time I laid eyes on you. You’ve grown,” he smiled more, placing a kiss on her forehead and ignoring the blunt stare that was practically burning through the back of his head from Claude Frollo.

          She allowed her gaze to turn away from that of Phoebus. She saw Claude’s face and knew well that he was about to accost the Sun God, the overt hatred in his eyes giving her the only indication she needed that she had to be careful, that one wrong step or move could ultimately land Phoebus in the dungeons and perhaps, herself too, the familiar feel of uneasiness eventually settling within the pit of her stomach. She would just have to temporize his actions, perhaps calm him. However, all her attempts proved to be pejorative whenever it came upon the near topic of Phoebus.

          Frollo was quick upon his actions and he was efficient. There was rarely anything that could be done unless something was offered to him that could perhaps benefit him more than his first decision but himself and his wants were mostly insatiable and he was an intransigent man. Every little part of his life had to be perfect, live up to what he expected but she realized over the year that she had been with him, that she was surprisingly an exception of sorts.

          His credence on how the world and people should behave, including his very own being seemed to not only disappear to the point of no existence but they seemed to be replaced with a want to make her happy, no matter how much of a propriety it lacked, it seemed as though he would do anything to make her content.

          She hoped that those same rules would apply to this situation. All she wanted was almost a peace treaty of sorts between the ex-captain and minister.

          Claude watched the interaction between the two and saw the unwanted fear in his wife as she practically cowered in Phoebus’ arms as though he could protect her, keep her safe from him. Was he really that horrifying? Did he truly emit that kind of aurora around himself to that extent that she was that afraid to even leave the blond man?

          He took into acknowledgement that perhaps he was a very jealous man but to the extent of cowering? No. She wasn’t that afraid of him. He tried to dissemble the jealousy that was so open to both Phoebus and Esmeralda.

          Perhaps she was simply startled because he never displayed that type of raw emotion towards anyone. He couldn’t help but scoff at the ludicrous thought himself. While he did enjoy lying to himself as he’s done many times before, he was a jealous, mordant and nefarious man with an utopian way of thinking that so many people lacked.

          He recalled himself one time of becoming envious of the interaction between his wife and the gypsy king, how close propinquity they were to each other, how happy Clopin made her and how he lacked that particular trait. He himself didn’t realize that he got jealous of the one who raised her. He obviously love her and she him but a different love, much like the love Frollo had for Quasimodo that took so long to realize and would have never been accomplished if not for the gypsy coming into his life.

          As he thought it over, he managed to erase the jealousy within him. He had the remember that Esmeralda did, in fact, love him. He was brought back to the earlier mental battle he had by himself over their argument and his claims had been inane, ludicrous. She did him no wrong and he knew that now. He doubted that she would ever do him wrong. At least, not the way he had done towards her. No, no matter what she did, he knew that she was nowhere near capable of committing such horrendous acts to him as he did to her people that not only affected the gypsies but her herself due to her being queen.

          And to see her people so mistreated, the ones she cared so desperately for, told him that he had no right to be jealous for she wouldn’t put up with him no matter how much he offered her if she truly despised him.

          He had little to worry about. Claude relaxed more as he thought it over, watching the exchange between the two quietly.

          Esmeralda smiled up at Phoebus, looking into his blue eyes that she fell in love with the moment she first met him. “Where have you been living?” She inquired gently, fixing the collar of his shirt. “What have you been doing since you… Left your stand as Captain of the Guard?” She didn’t dare bring up the events that caused him to lose that title.

          “I got engaged, married Fleur-De-Lys,” he mumbled softly. She looked away at the choice of wording he used, her heart beating painfully at what he said despite already knowing full well what the answer was going to be. He placed a gentle hand beneath her chin, tilting her head so she had to look at him. “What is it?” He asked and the gypsy wanted to scoff at such a question. Had he not a single clue what he did to her?

          “You got engaged? Or were you already engaged to her? Before you even met me and everything happened.”

          It was Phoebus’ turn to look away and he sighed in utmost defeat. “I figured you’ve forgotten by now,” he admitted before turning to meet her now tearful gaze. “Yes, Esmeralda. I was engaged to her before I met you and believe me. I hate every single damn fiber in my body for lying to you, for hurting you the way I did. I never intended to let this happen. I never intended to fall in love with such a beautiful, charming and above all, an extraordinary woman like you. I would have happily broke off the engagement with her but being brought down to a mere foot soldier. Esmeralda, you have to understand that she is wealthy and…”

          “And you couldn’t get by by marrying a dirt poor gypsy,” she finished for him bitterly, tears in her eyes that were threatening to overflow. She dipped her head and let a shaky breath escape. “I understand. You can’t have your title ruined more than it was already. I understand,” she pursed her lips and an unwanted sob escaped the back of her throat.

          “No, Esme. Don’t cry,” he immediately whispered, gathering her in his arms, holding her close. He buried his head in her mass of raven hair, pulling her closer still, wanting nothing more than to ease her tears and pain.

          She shook her head at his apologizes. “Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. I should have known. I shouldn’t have dreamt so big, shouldn’t have hoped in something that is impossible.”

          Phoebus merely nodded. “That’s why I visited. I wanted nothing more than to see you and make amends with you.”

          “Then, perhaps, stay for dinner? The chefs should be finishing up,” Esmeralda offered. “We can talk, catch up, right Claude?” She turned her attention to her husband who had, once again, lost control of his temper at the invitation to Phoebus and was attempting to, with little success, gain his temper and wits back, not wishing to upset his wife more than needed.

          “Yes, of course,” he managed to ground out, his eyes darkening with bitter resentment and hatred towards the blond, arrogant, buffoon. Why would Esmeralda even consider giving Phoebus any sort of chance? Esmeralda, he knew, had a brilliant mind that she didn’t use once her forgiving and caring heart took over and belief that everyone deserves a second choice.

          He knew he was being almost hypocritical of hating that feature for that was the only reason Esmeralda was his wife. She seemed to notice his anger she felt her own make an appearance. “Come,” she directed to Phoebus. I’ll show you to the dining hall.” As she passed Claude, she nudged him harshly in the ribs to which he hissed out in pain and anger at her actions. She gestured for him to follow them. He didn’t need an invitation. He would be keeping a more than close eye on Phoebus.

          The food was set in front of them almost as soon as they sat down, Djali, just like every other night, came running in, jumping onto his mistress’ lap to which she would give him most of her dinner. “Still have your kid?” Phoebus grinned.

          At the sound of his voice, Djali immediately grew defensive, bleating angrily at him, knowing well that he was the reason as to why the gypsy queen cried herself to sleep almost every night whenever his name was even mentioned.

          “And he still doesn’t take kindly to soldiers,” Esmeralda grinned, causing another confused bleat to escape out of the small goat residing in her arms. “It’s alright, Djali,” she murmured to the goat. “He’s fine now. I promise. He won’t hurt me,” a bleat of disbelief followed after and Frollo couldn’t help but feel the same as the little pest, as he referred him as.

          A huff of defeat was all Djali provided before eating the food in the plate happily, his small stump of tail wagging quickly as he ate. “He’s adorable,” Phoebus mumbled, his elbow on the table as he rested his shin on the palm of his hand, watching as Esmeralda carefully stroked the light fur on Djali’s back.

          “Indeed, he is,” she murmured in response, a smile on her lips, showing her content. She felt Claude’s eyes on her and the addition of now Phoebus’ made her rather uncomfortable. “So… Why isn’t Fleur here? Where are you two staying?”

          “We found a cabin in the edge of town. Fleur wanted to clean it up,” he spoke easily, swallowing the meat on his silverware. “She told me to go but unfortunately, we got into an argument earlier today when we settled down so she kicked me out until tomorrow.”

          “So, do you not have a place to stay?” She asked as she eventually had some of her own food once Djali was done. She felt the glare that Claude was giving her but she felt no need to hide her mere curiosity. At that point, she had just about enough with her husband that day. He caused more than a headache which, surprisingly, wasn’t normal, even for him. He seemed to have more tolerance for her but that was more than lacking at the moment, annoying her greatly.

          On the other hand, Claude was more so infuriated rather than annoyed. His jealousy was flaring up at the easy interaction between the two. “Esmeralda. I’d like to talk to you…” He stood. “…Now.” The last thing he wanted or needed was Phoebus staying over for the night.

          She merely waved him off, not even doing that much. She had raised a hand to shut him up, her main focus on Phoebus and Phoebus alone. Claude’s eyes narrowed at the lack of acknowledgement towards him.

          “No,” Phoebus answered Esmeralda’s question, having remained quiet when the minister had stood to see how the event would unfold. “No. I don’t have a place to stay tonight, as you asked. Do you mind if I…?” He began.

          Esmeralda immediately nodded. “Of course. Stay for as long as you wish, Phoebus. You can stay. Let me show you the room.” She stood and Phoebus smiled, following after her quietly as she led him upstairs, a crude smirk playing on his lips. All he could think about was how he, after the whole year, was about to take Esmeralda as his and his alone.


End file.
